Saturday, June 18, 2016

It
is not often that I can consider a book game-changing in terms of impact.This is certainly true of Annette Kuhn’s
edited collection Little Madnesses:
Winnicott, Transitional Phenomena, and Cultural Experience (I. B. Tauris,
2014).Drawing on the theories of the
psychoanalyst D. W. Winnicott, the contributors look at different ways in which
individuals make use of the experience of watching movies, attending art
galleries, or viewing installations to make sense of their lives.

I
have referred in previous posts to the effect that Winnicott has had on my own
thinking.This collection reinforces the
idea of the ways in which we create “third spaces,” using transitional objects
(such as films) that help us redefine the relationship between the psyche and
the environment.In such spaces we are
both “me and not me” – in other words, we can reconsider our previous
behavioral constructions while exploring the potential to create new
possibilities.This “third space” is
potentially limitless; there are no boundaries other than those that we choose
to impose on ourselves.

This
model is especially appropriate to fan cultures, where aficionadoes of
particular movies (e.g. Star Wars, Blade Runner) not only construct their
lives according to the characters and their actions, but rewrite the movies in
their own way, publishing their work online or in discussion-groups.Kuhn’s anthology not only looks at movies as
transitional objects, but also shows how cinema buildings fulfill similar
functions, especially in the mid-twentieth century. At that time movie-goers
went on a regular basis to local cinemas, not just to see movies, but to savor
the behavioral rituals associated with the event – meeting their potential
spouses, dressing up, enjoying the double feature, and so on.When the massive picture-palaces opened, with
their carved interiors, plush seats and elegantly uniformed staff, this sense
of occasion was increased: movie-goers could forget the humdrum realities of
their quotidian lives and enter dream-worlds offering illusions of gentility.

Other
transitional objects explored in the collection include sounds.This is a suggestive concept, reminding me of
my own life, in which my daily ritual of “me-time,” where I sit down in peace
and read a book, is inevitably accompanied by classical music in the
background.The sound of the music is
associated subconsciously with relaxation, allowing my mind to wander wherever
it wishes, and to reflect on my past and the way it can determine my
future.Put more simply, the sound of
classical music becomes the catalyst by which I can learn how to adapt to
changing situations.

The
collection also invites us to question the distinction between “fiction” and “reality”
by showing how fictions – as represented in movies or other cultural products –
offer alternatives to readers and/or viewers, giving them the chance to
reconsider or redefine their lives.The
text becomes the means by which they learn how to adapt to changing situations,
and thereby determine future actions.Storytelling assumes a highly powerful function; by submitting to the
alternative reality (perhaps a more appropriate term than “fiction”) of the
tale, we learn how to redefine our own realities; we reflect on past
experiences and use such reflections to determine our futures.Storytelling stimulates creativity in
everyone’s consciousness, so long as they appreciate the value of transitional
objects.Kuhn’s collection is a highly
democratic work in this respect.

The
collection also emphasizes the importance of “de-differentiation.”This is a suggestive notion: if we all
understand the power of transitional objects, we can appreciate the value of
the transformative processes associated with them.Such moments encourage us to set aside our
notions of social, gender, ethnic and racial difference and understand how
every human being is capable of enjoying them.All of us can learn how to contemplate and reflect on our lives if we
are given the time and space to do so.

This
conclusion should be understood by everyone involved in the pedagogic
profession – educators, learners, administrators.It suggests that “learning” has little or
nothing to do with factual acquisition, but only occurs when individuals are
stimulated to do so.They need to be
creatively stimulated, so that they learn how to create their own spaces and
identify their own transitional objects.This process involves a considerable amount of laissez-faire; rather
than telling people what to think and how to think, educators and
administrators should be prepared to listen to their learners and learn from
them.Winnicott talked a lot about the
ways in which infants learn from their mothers; Kuhn’s collection suggests that
this is a two-way process in which mothers (and other figures of responsibility)
should learn from their infants.

The
collection contains so much to reflect on and learn from, it needs to be reread
more than once.I congratulate Kuhn on
her efforts.

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Abstract
This essay exposes the constructed nature of the east/west binary as a means by which
westerners (especially) can reinforce their sense of superiority, while easterners can use
it as an intellectual stick to criticize their western counterparts. In its place I advocate a
more measured approach based on listening to and understanding alternative
perspectives, not only in terms of interpersonal relationships but in terms of personal
psychology. The importance of mesearch as a concept, uniting scholarly and personal
approaches, is proposed as a means to achieve this aim.

Keywords: colonialism, binarisms, mesearch, travel, psychology

Download the article on http://www.degruyter.com/dg/viewjournalissue.articlelist.resultlinks.fullcontentlink:pdfeventlink/$002fj$002flincu.2015.2015.issue-2$002flincu-2015-0033$002flincu-2015-0033.pdf/lincu-2015-0033.pdf?t:ac=j$002flincu.2015.2015.issue-2$002fissue-files$002flincu.2015.2015.issue-2.xml or
http://www.degruyter.com/view/j/lincu.2015.2015.issue-2/issue-files/lincu.2015.2015.issue-2.xml

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

I recently stayed for six days in Washington DC, partly on holiday and partly to attend (on a part time basis at least, the ‘Wharton in Washington’ conference held near DuPont Circle. This was something of a change, as I had not attended a single-author event since May 2015, when my home institution had devoted two days to Scott Fitzgerald.

The event was held in the library of Anderson House, a mahogany-and-brass room lined with leather-bound books and the heads of Ivory-statued males staring forbiddingly at anyone daring to penetrate their space. It seemed an ideal venue to discuss the oeuvre of someone who grew up in this kind of patriarchal environment and spent a lot of time criticising it both implicitly and explicitly.

As the proceedings unfolded, so I became increasingly uncomfortable, physically as well as literally. The majority of the papers were delivered by speakers with no sense of environment; rather than concentrating of the sociology of Wharton, past or present, or reflecting on how the situation might reshape our understanding of her, they mostly stuck to the kind of character analysis that I though had been abandoned long ago in literary criticism.

I was wrong. Years ago D. H. Lawrence advised his readers not to look in twentieth century novels “for the old stable ego of character.” This dictum could apply equally to Henry James or Edith Wharton. I have found the latter two authors especially in the way they eschew characterisation in favour of psychology: few of us are coherent in our behaviour, and this trait is embodied in many of their characters.

At this conference, however, one or the chief pastimes consisted of reading as many symbols into the text as possible. This sentence had purposely been written this way to emphasise the ancient art of symbol-hunting, a sport beloved of critics since the New Critical era. Even if you believe in the Barthesian notion of the death of the author, you too can show off your wisdom and learning by squeezing every gram of symbolism out of your selected text.

I am not suggesting that authors refrain from resorting to the technique; but I do believe that symbol-hunting actually deflects attention away from texts and authors and onto critics. The ‘best’ at their job are those who uncover the most elaborate symbols that no one has previously thought.

When I began my career, I always used to be in awe of such people whose sensibilities seemed so much further developed than my own. Now I realise that symbol-hunting is at best pleasurable, at worst futile as it detracts from rather than enhances our imaginative engagement with a work.

It does not really matter about the symbols; what should concern us is the need to be drawn into the author’s world and the characters that people it. Their behaviour does not have to be ‘rational’ or ‘stable,’ or even ‘coherent’; it should engage us subliminally.

And it is this quality I found so lacking at the conference, whose participants preferred to challenge one another on their knowledge of the inner highways and by-ways of Wharton’s oeuvre rather than communicating any real sense of joy, passion, or even cultural awareness at being in the Anderson Library. I am not positing any either/or scenario here, but rather suggesting more emphasis on pleasure, on the instinctive and spontaneous thoughts – akin to stream of consciousness- arising every time we open a book.

Three days after the conference ended, I went to the Chicago Institute of Art and browsed among their extensive American art collection. Among the exhibits in the pre-20th collection were several paintings depicting the rarefied world of urban Washington: stylish, mannered, constricting. Looking at the women in their starched crinolines exchanging polite small talk while perched uncomfortably on heavy mahogany chairs offered immediate insight into Wharton's milieu and why she was so preoccupied with it, whether positively or negatively.

I am not in any saying that paintings are doing the work that literary critics should; but I do believe that scholarship has to emerge from its often incestuous ivory tower of ‘specialists’ and become more all-encompassing. In that way Wharton's reputation can be consolidated as well as enhanced.